It's All About A Father's Love
by cystalclearxox
Summary: Michalchuk. That name was suppose to bring him pride but inside it only brought him pain.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay I've noticed that lots of people are making Marco cut in his stories so I've decided to turn the tables. That's right, Dylan's gonna cut. So um, it really depressed me to write this story. Anyway, enjoy?

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But when push comes to shove

It's all about a father's love

It's all about a father's love

It's all about a father's love

_"Father" by Chris Stacey_

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Dylan lay there absentmindedly, he was cold. Everything was cold. The ceiling was abnormally white too. It was too bright. The vibrant colour stung his eyes. His lips were dry, no moisture. A stray chestnut curl shaded over his ashen skin. The colour had drained out of his cheeks. A bitter liquid trailed down his face, staining his flesh. The brunette inhaled sharply as more tears crashed down his face. It was strange, he wasn't sad yet he was crying.

_The young teen slammed his door shut, crying violently. Why did God have to do this to him? It wasn't fair. He had always been a good boy. He was an obedient son, a respectful brother and an honest student. What had he done wrong to deserve this? He could hear his father yelling furiously off in the distance as his mother cried. Paige had long since been ushered into her room. The blonde threw himself onto his bed and crawled under the covers. He wanted to disappear, hide from the outside world. Hot tears dampened the teen's pillow. _

"_No, he is not my son. My son is not gay!" his father screamed. The blonde winced slightly at the vicious tone in his father's voice. Brutal sobs echoed through his bedroom. _

_The teen was shaking uncontrollably. He didn't want these feelings. Just as his father said, they were wrong, disgusting. He was disgusting. He was a horrible son. "I'm sorry dad." The blonde's voice was sorrowful and almost inaudible. He knew his father would never look at him the same. He was a fag. The boy inwardly cursed himself. You're sick, twisted, and evil. You don't deserve to live. Dylan carefully crawled out of bed and walked over to his desk. He slowly pulled open his desk drawer and pulled out and his Swiss army knife his father had given him for his birthday. He was scared. The blonde shakily pulled up his sleeve and flicked the knife out. He knew it would hurt. He brought the blade to his pale skin and watched morbidly as it dug into his skin, a crimson liquid leaking out. The blood trailed down his arm and dripped onto his desk. He then heard rushed footsteps approach his room and his door swung open. A pair of identical blue eyes bugged wide open. _

"_Dylan…"_

"_Dad…"_

_The teen hurriedly dropped the knife down onto the floor and tried to cover his arm up with his sleeve but his father stopped him. The older man stared at his son's bleeding wound. His mouth gaped open in horror. "Dylan, no. Michalchuk's don't do this. Michalchuk's are strong… not weak like this."_

_His father was right, he was weak. How could he call himself a Michalchuk?_

The brunette smiled sadistically. Michalchuk. That name was suppose to bring him pride but inside it only brought him pain. He suffered deeply because of that last name. Dylan hated it. He wished it would die. Though he knew it was impossible to kill a word. Only if he could. He traced his fingers over the tiled marble flooring of the bathroom. He was numb everywhere but for some reason he wasn't scared. He liked this feeling. Now nothing could hurt him… more than himself that is.

"_No, you're lying. Paige… she couldn't have been!" The blonde cried. He punched the wall violently. He was so full of rage. He wanted to kill that Dean person. He would pay for this. He would suffer for what he had done to his little sister. The older boy had tainted her, abused his innocent sister. "I'm going to kill him!"_

"_Dylan calm down!" his father demanded. The teen turned to face his father, glaring at him venomously. The blonde clenched his jaw tightly as balled his fists. "Dylan we just had this room renovated. Try not to destroy it please." That sick bastard. All he was upset about was his precious room. Dylan then turned on his heels and stormed off. He quickly ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. Only he and his father were home. Obviously Paige and his mother thought it would be best if his dad told him about his sister's rape. Dylan was supposed to protect his sister, keep her away from any harm. She was raped under his watch. He was a despicable brother. _

_The older boy looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He could feel all the anger he had repressed bubble up. He couldn't take it anymore. The blonde's fist connect with the glass, it shattering on impact. The shattered pieces of glass fell onto the bathroom counter and into the sink. He delicately picked up a piece and brought it to his arm, slashing it. _

"_Dylan what's going on..." The older Michalchuk froze as he saw the display in front of him. His father shook his head disappointedly. "That mirror is coming out of you're allowance."_

His father was always a very material man. He cherished his expensive possessions. The older boy laughed hopelessly. Did he ever really care about him? Did he ever think about how his words affected him? The older man was unappeasable. The hockey player tried over and over again to please his father. It disgusted him that he wanted the horrible man to be proud of him. He tried to tell himself that his father's opinion didn't matter but somehow he craved for it.

"_Dylan, honestly. I thought you were better than that. Cheating… by God Dylan. You do realize that you're sister is furious with you right now." Mr. Michalchuk snapped. The blonde merely sat there on the couch, doing his best to ignore the older man. He didn't want to hear about Marco as of the moment. "Michalchuk's are better than that."_

_The hockey player glared at his father as he rose from the couch. "I came over here to talk to Paige dad. Not to hear you're pointless ramblings."_

"_Well, Paige isn't here so you're stuck." His father stated. The blonde rolled his eyes, irritated. _

"_I'm going to the bathroom." Dylan said as he turned away. _

"_To do what? Cut yourself? Are you honestly that pathetic?" he replied. The blonde whipped his head to look at the other man. His eyes narrowed dangerously. Then he continued to the bathroom. Dylan guessed his father was right. He really was that pathetic._

Why did he have to be a Michalchuk? Why did he even have to be even born? The brunette bit his chapped lip. A chill breeze swept in from the open window. The older boy shivered, it was making him even colder than he already was. If his father saw him now, he'd probably spew out something about him being weak and hopeless. He wondered why the older man never told his mother about those times he cut. Most likely because he was ashamed. Why did he want his father's praise so much. The man was horrible. Why did it care so much to him?

"_Dyl, he's gone." Paige cried through the phone. _

"_What? Who's gone Paige?" Dylan replied, scared. _

"_Dad, Dyl. He was killed instantly in a car crash." The older boy dropped his cell phone in shock as well as his hockey bag he had been holding. The brunette ran as fast as he could and made his way out of the hockey arena. _

His father was supposed to come to his hockey game tonight. On the way there he was killed in a collision. A semi ran a red light and crashed right into him. The older boy became suddenly very tired. His eyelids felt extremely heavy. He gazed over to his arm, it was drenched in a crimson liquid, both of them were. His blood stained the newly washed floor. The brunette had come directly home after the hockey game. They had won 5-4. The hockey player had scored the winning goal. Dylan had cursed inwardly throughout the game, hating his father for not showing up, thinking that he was selfish and cruel.

It was his fault his father was gone. His need for his father's approval had ultimately killed the man. Tears were falling freely. Dylan should be joyous. The man that had tormented him for his whole life was dead. He should be celebrating. The brunette sighed humorously as he realized something. Dylan tried his whole life to escape from the older man and now, soon, he'd be joining him. Life was ironic that way. Dylan's eyes drooped shut as darkness fell over him, hearing footsteps approaching the bathroom. _See you soon dad. _

"Dylan!" At least the last thing he would hear was his love's voice.

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Review please and if ya want i'll make this a two shot : ) oh yeah and um go to the link on my profile page to see the music video of the song that the lyrics were from. You might see someone familiar in it coughDylancough. 


	2. Chapter 2

Yay, I'm not dead. The past two months have been Super crazy. So here's the second part. Enjoy. Oh yeah, major thanks to my new beta lilfiftyfour XD.

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Nimble, bloodless fingers traced over the engraved 'M' on the frigid tombstone, sullen tears welling up in his distant, saddened eyes. His thin, chapped lips began to quiver, an overwhelming amount of emotions rushing to the surface. A lone tear trickled down the boy's ashen face as his fingers skimmed over the 'I'. The unforgiving wind whipped violently at his disheveled hair, a small sniffle becoming lost amongst the howling of the autumn breeze. Vibrant colored leaves tumbled across the barren graveyard. He delicately placed a single tea rose on the gravesite, his heart shattering with each moment he spent here. He delicately wrapped his slender arms around his frozen body, doing his best to warm himself up. The younger boy felt like he was drained of life. Seconds seemed like hours and days felt like years. Each painful second that ticked on the brunette hopes withered away. He felt so many rivaling emotions deep within him. Sadness, anger, misery, regret…

_His hearted stopped. Time itself stopped. Everything just stopped that moment. The younger boy's stomach lurched painfully. He quickly fell to his knees and scrambled over to his boyfriend's lifeless body, his jeans becoming stained with the crimson liquid smeared on the tiled floor. The Italian took hold of the bleeding wounds, trying to prevent the loss of anymore blood. He screamed out Paige's name. The blonde hurriedly rushed to the bathroom, immediately crying in horror at the display. He told the shaken girl to call an ambulance. How could this be happening? Why? Tears poured violently down his ashen face. His own arms were trembling furiously. The brunette rested his heavy head on the older boy's shoulder, crying into it. His cheeks brushed against the hockey player's colorless one. He was so cold. Marco prayed that the ambulance would get here quick. Marco screamed out his love's name. The older boy just lay there, unresponsive. He shook the older boy furiously. _

"_Don't do this to me Dylan. I love you. Don't leave me."_

_The image of the hockey player's pale tear stricken face was burned into his mind forever. _

He'll never forget that day. The experience for him was extremely numbing. He was constantly tormented by nightmares, each one depicting that horrid day. He'd wake up crying and covered in a thick layer of sweat. Dreamless sleep had not been his friend for the past two weeks. Sometimes he just found it hard to breath. He'd sometimes just find himself staring off into space, completely blanking out his surroundings. His cocoa eyes fixated themselves on the tiny cracks in the tombstone as his finger made its way over the 'C' and then the 'H'. A forlorn gaze plastered itself onto his olive face. Everything was a furious blur. Days seemed to smear into weeks. Things that he once found important were pointless now. The Italian inhaled wearily, trying to regain focus on why he was here for in the first place.

_He waited there anxiously in the waiting room, waiting for news on his boyfriend's state. Everything had been so rushed, so frantic. He barely had time to wipe his tears and catch his breath. He clung on to Paige for dear life, both of their faces flushed and wet from tears. Marco didn't understand anything that was going on. Paige had called him earlier telling him what happened to her father. His condolences immediately went out to the blonde girl. Then Paige asked if he could find Dylan and see how he was doing. Marco hadn't found Dylan anywhere in the hockey arena and he noticed that Dylan's car was gone. He asked Paige to come pick him up and she complied. He had no idea what he was in for once he arrived home. Now he was here, waiting. Just waiting and praying. Praying for his love's life. He was trembling furiously, unknowingly biting his lower lip. _

_Paige was in utter shock. The girl hadn't spoken two words to him since they arrived at the hospital. He was forced to call Dylan's mom himself and break the new to her. She had already lost her husband and now she could lose her only son. He couldn't imagine what the older woman was going through. Of course Ellie was here with him. Marco had called her as well. She to was shocked about what happened with Dylan. The older boy always seemed so strong and put together. Being emotional and hysterical was Marco's part in the relationship. Dylan was always there to comfort him now he was… the younger boy didn't even want to think about it. Maybe if he gotten home sooner he could of stopped Dylan. The brunette's head snapped up as he heard approaching footsteps. An older man, probably the doctor, stood before them. _

"_I-Is he okay?" Marco stuttered. He waited anxiously for the answer. The man's face was blank. It was neither a good or bad sign. _

The wind was picking up now, sending chilling shivers down the Italian's back. His frail fingers were now lightly trailing over the 'A' and then the 'L'. It was hard to imagine that any of this was happening. It all seemed so surreal. Maybe if he closed his eyes tight enough he'd eventually wake up to find out this was all a horrible nightmare and that Dylan was still sleeping peacefully beside him. Never in a million years would of he imagined that Dylan would be suicidal. Maybe that's what he did what he did because he did indeed feel alone. No one saw it coming. It was a definite surprise to all. He watched intently as a single velvet red petal separated from the rose and tossing exquisitely in the breeze, joining the various amount of leaves.

_Sorrowful sobs echoed throughout the church. Paige was weeping beside her mother, the blonde's face nuzzled in the older woman's shoulder. In front of them was a coffin adorned with various flowers. The boy's eyes fluttered closed, trying to stop the oncoming tears. He tried to block out the incessant cries of relatives of the now deceased Michalchuk. The Italian sat there with an emotionless expression on his face. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to get up and run from the church. Though he knew it would be selfish if he left. He tugged irately at his itchy black turtle neck. _

"_He was a good man. Always did right by himself and his family. An outstanding member of the community." The reverend began. "All that knew him thought of him as a proud role model for all alike. He abided by purposeful morals and called out ones who did not do the same. His untimely demise was unexpected and certainly unwanted." The brunette's eyes fluttered closed as the robed man continued on. He folded his hands gently in his lap. He could hear his heart pounding relentlessly in his ears. The noise was driving him slowly insane. _

Marco then clasped two shaking hands over his face. He felt so helpless. So weak. The Italian felt two strong arms wrapped around him. Marco quickly turned around and embraced the older boy desperately. "Dylan…" The hockey player responded by gently kissing the top of the younger boy's head. Dylan comfortingly rubbed his back.

"_I-Is he okay?" _

_The doctor sighed. "He's stable. He didn't lose enough blood for it to become fatal but we will be moving him into the psyche ward so that we can keep a close eye on him as he recovers." _

_The Italian felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Can we see him?"_

"_Yes but one at a time we don't want overwhelm him." The older man replied. They agreed that Marco would be the first one to see the older boy. He hurriedly made his way to Dylan's room and carefully opened the door. The hockey player was laying there, bandages over his healing wrists, staring up at the ceiling. It looked like all life was drained from his once sparkling blue eyes. He silently approached the older brunette. His face had regained some of its colour. "Dylan?"_

_The older boy blinked in response. Marco made his way into the chair beside the hospital bed. Dylan then said something he'd never forget. _

"_Why didn't you just let me die?"_

_A painful sob escape from his lips. "Because I love you." The Italian tried to restrain himself from asking why the older boy did what he did but it was becoming harder and harder as each second passed by. Finally he just blurted it out. _

"_Why did you do this Dylan?"_

_For the first time since he spent in this room Dylan looked him straight in the eye. _

"_Because I'm pathetic…"_

Marco never knew about all the pain Dylan's father put him through. If he had, he would have gladly sent the older man to the grave himself. He never pictured Dylan as one to cut himself. It hurt the younger boy deeply knowing that the older boy had cut over him. Dylan repeatedly told him that it wasn't something he should worry over but he couldn't help it. For the first time he saw Dylan as someone who needed to be protected and comforted instead of the other way around. It had been about two weeks since Dylan's father's death and he finally convinced the older brunette to come to his gravesite.

"Dylan is there anything that you'd like to say to your father?" Marco asked.

"No." Dylan replied. "It's not like he can hear me anyways."

"Dylan…"

"Fine." The older boy's eyes drifted over to his father's grave. "Dad, I hope you rot in hell."

"Dylan…"

"What?" the hockey player asked. Marco sighed dismally.

"Dylan, I know you don't exactly like your father for what he did to you and neither do I but he was still your father. You can't bottle up your emotions Dylan. It only ends up hurting you more." The brunette explained. Marco then chastely kissed the older boy on the lips.

"…Dad, you hurt me a lot. I-I hated the fact like it seemed like you didn't care enough about me to help me with what I was doing to m-myself. I guess now I'll n-never know why you did the things you did. Even though all the pain you put me through, I still love y-you. I just hope one d-day I'll be able to think about you and smile instead of cry." Dylan stuttered. "Can we go home now?"

"Yeah, let's go home." Marco replied.

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Review please. 


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